Twenty Questions
by LaylaBinx
Summary: They're surrounded by Walkers and Glenn has a substantial head injury. Freakin' perfect. *Repost!*


**Hey guys! This story had to be reposted due to a formatting error. Sorry for any confusion! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing =/**

* * *

The plan went from sure to shit in about thirty seconds flat. It was pretty damn impressive actually and had they not been trapped in the broom closet of a drug store, Daryl would have taken the time to marvel at how spectacularly shitty this day had turned in a matter of minutes. He doesn't have time to think about it right now though; he needs to figure a way out of here before they both get eaten by the horde of walkers outside. Glenn is absolutely no help right now, hell, he doubts if the kid is even conscious to be honest, so it's up to him to save their asses. They can't go back through the front of the store unless they want to trample down at least a dozen Walkers and the back door is in about the same position. There's a window high above their heads, a block of daylight streaming through the dust smudged glass, and Daryl thinks he can make it if only he had something to stand on. He could risk venturing outside to find a crate or a box or something but that would mean leaving Glenn to fend for himself and with the kid being (likely) unconscious against his shoulder, he knew that wouldn't be happening. Glenn's head is lolled against Daryl's shoulder and the older man can feel blood soaking through his shirt and trickling down his arm. It's not his, its Glenn's, and that makes the situation so much worse. He glares up at the window, trying to come up with some better way of getting up there without leaving Glenn on his own. Yep, this day has turned into a magnificent shit storm…

**1 hour earlier…**

"Still don't see why you had to drag me along for this…" Daryl grumbles, doing his absolute best to ignore the Korean sitting in the front seat beside him. He'd been minding his own business oiling his crossbow back at the camp when Glenn had come bounding up to him and all but begged him to come with him into town for a supply run. Daryl had scowled and ignored him but it quickly became evident that the kid had no intentions of leaving until he'd convinced the other man to agree to come with him. He'd used himself to his advantage, crafty little bastard that he was, because he knew that even though Daryl would rather brush his teeth with a pistol than admit it, he had a soft spot for the kid. He had one for Sophia as well and everyone in the group knew better than to bring that up and pretended to ignore the fact that he was a lot more patient and gentle with her than anyone else. Well, anyone else except Glenn. That was a well guarded secret though and he had an arrow set aside for the first person who brought it up.

This thing between them was still new and uncertain, all careful glances and hesitant hands. They'd slept together once but sharing a tent had become somewhat of a nightly occurrence. It had started out as a form of sleep aide; it was easier to sleep when someone else was with you and since both of them had tents all to themselves it just seemed natural to start sharing one. It had become a routine over the past few weeks: they would go to bed separately; wait for about two hours until they were sure everyone else was asleep, and then one or the other would sneak out and slip into the other tent. It was usually Glenn who came to Daryl's tent but every once in a while Daryl would make the venture. He told Glenn it was because he was better at sneaking around in the dark and he stood less of a chance of getting caught. He'd once compared Glenn to a T-Rex stumbling through china store with a blindfold on with the amount of noise he made coming to Daryl's tent at night. Glenn had laughed and given the most adorable little pout at the insult and Daryl just shrugged it off with a smirk. It was true, Glenn had the grace of an avalanche and they both knew it. Still, it didn't stop them from venturing to each other in the dead of night and hunkering down in one sleeping bag and waiting for morning. Glenn felt safe in Daryl's arms and Daryl just preferred to hear someone else's breathing other than his own in the late night hours.

It had taken nearly twenty minutes of pleading and begging and God damn puppy eyes before Daryl finally lost his resolve and agreed to go with him. Glenn had two lists in his pocket, one for the camp in general and one for special requests. Daryl almost rolled his eyes at the thought of "special requests"; the whole damn world had fallen to shit around them, there were no such things as special requests anymore. Still, he keeps his mouth shut and wordlessly walks over to one of the trucks toward the front of camp and tosses his crossbow into the backseat. Glenn slides in beside him and the engine takes a few tries before it finally grumbles to life beneath the hood. Daryl backs out of the gravel driveway and turns onto the main road, driving in the direction of the closest town. In the back of his mind, Daryl knew it wouldn't be too long before they were forced to move again and find a new place to camp out. The stores were already short on supplies and the longer they stayed in any one area, the shorter those remaining supplies tended to get. Still, that was for the others to figure out and he wasn't about to say anything on the matter. Most of them were adults in this situation so he resolved to let them figure it out for themselves.

"Oh come on, you weren't doing anything anyway," Glenn retorts, glancing out the window at the scenery passing around them. "That crossbow was so clean you could eat off of it."

"You do eat off of it, every night," Daryl counters back, shooting a glance at the younger man.

Glenn shrugs one shoulder and keeps looking outside. "You know what I mean. Besides, the buddy system works better than going alone."

"No, the buddy system just means that you die in pairs instead of dyin' alone."

Glenn actually smirks at this and shakes his head. "Wow, someone had an extra dose of pessimism this morning."

"It's true."

"Well, I needed help with the supplies and my backpack isn't going to fit everything." He turns and looks at Daryl then, grinning sweetly. "Besides, I feel so much safer with you protecting me from the Walkers with your strong, manly arms and your big, deadly crossbow."

"I'm about to throw you outta this truck…"

Glenn chuckles and shakes his head, looking back out the window. With his head turned away, he misses the half-smirk that tugs at the corner of Daryl's mouth.

They reach the town about five minutes later and park outside the closest grocery store. The streets are empty and littered with broken glass and furniture. There's a few Walkers sprawled out in the street that had taken a bullet to the head long before they'd ever gotten here and the stench of decay is strong as they get out of the truck. The front window of the store had been broken in several places but most of the panes remained standing. The aisles are strewn with boxes and trash from people grabbing what they needed and running. There's not much here, a few cans and bottles tucked in the back of the empty shelves but it's noticeably barren and the gathering is going to be slim today. Daryl doesn't say anything to the matter and simply takes his place at the front door, keeping watch as Glenn makes his way through the aisles.

In all reality, you would think that it would be hard for a zombie to get the drop on someone what with the shambling, stumbling, moaning physique they tend to possess. Daryl thought so at least. One would have been bad enough but, as always, when it rains it pours and it wasn't just one, it was six. Daryl is still watching the front of the store when he hears a startled gasp and turns just in time to see the first Walker come stumbling toward Glenn. He manages to shoot it, an arrow clean through the eye, but when the Walker falls he takes the shelf down with him and it happens to fall right on top of Glenn. Daryl catches just a brief glimpse of the kid falling wide-eyed to the ground before he's buried beneath the metal shelf he was standing beside.

"Glenn!" He shouts and he knows he shouldn't because it will just alert more Walkers but its instinct more than logic now. He starts to run toward where the younger man had fallen when he sees the other Walkers stagger through the store, approaching from the back and surrounding him on all sides. He notices rather belatedly that the back door to the grocery store had been knocked off its hinges and the Walkers are now slowly but surely making their way through the opening and into the store. Shit. He looks over to where Glenn had fallen, able to make out one of his arms sticking out from beneath the shelf, and mentally calculates how long it will take to get to him before the Walkers get there first. He reloads his crossbow and fires another arrow, catching another Walker in the temple and sending her crashing to the ground.

They're getting closer to Glenn now, one of them standing over the kid's limp arm and making a grab for it. Daryl vaults over the nearest shelf and pushes it over onto the Walker, pinning him to the back wall of the store. It struggles for a second before Daryl snatches the arrow out of the eye of the first Walker and stabs the pinned one through the forehead. All at once it stops moving and slumps against the shelf, dead eyes open and blackish blood pooling from its mouth. There's three more but they're further to the back of the store and trying to figure out the obstacle course of aisles so Daryl uses the momentary respite to his advantage to check on Glenn.

He drops to his knees beside the overturned shelf, finding the kid crumpled and motionless beneath them. Luckily the shelf hadn't fallen directly onto up him, it had created a bit of a space from landing against the shelf beside it and Glenn had ended up in the middle. Still, he's not moving and he hasn't attempted to get up yet and that worries Daryl more than he'd like to admit. There's blood staining the floor beneath Glenn's head, dying his hat a grotesque crimson color, and for one horrible second Daryl thinks he's been bitten. He works his way into the space, ignoring the sounds of the Walkers stumbling around inside the store, and snatches the hat off of Glenn's head. There's a gash along his hairline, stretching from above his eyebrow to his temple, and its bleeding like a something out of a Quinton Tarantino movie. Daryl suddenly remembers that he hates Quinton Tarantino movies. Still, it's definitely not a bite and it doesn't look like a scratch so it must have come from the shelf itself. That offers some form of comfort but Glenn is obviously unconscious so what little relief Daryl feels dissipates almost instantly.

He flips the kid onto his back as gently as he can and presses his fingers to his carotid. Glenn's pulse is fast and a little shaky beneath his fingertips but its steady enough to reassure him that the kid isn't about to croak and die right in front of him so he lets out a sigh. There's a crash up above them, closer than it had been a minute earlier, and Daryl curses. The Walkers can smell the blood and since head wounds bleed like a bitch anyway, it's probably driving them crazy in their attempt to find it. They need to get out of here but with at least three Walkers still roaming around the store their escape plans are a bit limited.

Glenn stirs a bit beneath him and makes a soft groaning sound that Daryl immediately silences with his hand. He's more relieved than he lets on that the kid is conscious but he can't run the risk of the Walkers hearing him. He tries to get Glenn's attention, holding a finger to his mouth and removing his hand, but the kid's eyes are unfocused and fluttering and he looks like his fragile grip on consciousness is waning. Daryl frowns and bends down over him, looking at his eyes closely in the darkness of their crawl space. Glenn's eyes are dark already but even in this light Daryl can tell one pupil is blown wide, larger than it should be, and a sure indication of a concussion. Double shit. They're surrounded by Walkers and Glenn has a substantial head injury. Fucking perfect.

One of the Walkers suddenly appears at the opening of the crawl space and Daryl manages to snatch Glenn away just in time to avoid being grabbed by undead fingers. Glenn makes a pathetic little whimpering sound in the back of his throat at the sudden movement and winces, closing his eyes tightly as the world begins to tilt and sway. "Dar'l…" He mumbles and the hand is pressed over his mouth again.

"Shh…" Daryl hisses in his ear, dragging him backwards and keeping both of them as far away from the opening as he can. Two more Walkers appear, crowding the opening of the crawl space and all vying for a chance to get inside at the same time. Daryl thanks whatever god he doesn't believe in that zombies are stupid creatures and can't figure out how to get in one at a time. Still, their time in this hiding place is up and they need to get somewhere else fast.

He casts a glance over his shoulder and sees a broom closet about five feet away. The door is slightly ajar and it's probably the first miracle they've had all day. He just needs to get them across that distance and into the closet without the Walkers cornering them. Normally it wouldn't be a problem but Glenn is just barely conscious and he's either going to have to drag or carry him if they both want to make it over there at the same time. They need a distraction, any kind of head start they can get…

He spots a fire alarm bolted to the wall behind the head of the nearest Walker and figures it's the best option he has at the moment. He has a clear enough shot and unless one of those undead bastards steps in the way he can hit it right in the center. Granted, there's to possibility it won't work at all and he'll have wasted a perfectly good arrow but he can't think of that right now; he _needs_ this to work. He loads an arrow into the crossbow and takes aim at the fire alarm, doing his best to ignore the moaning and pounding going on over their heads. Glenn shifts a bit and groans, blood still coating one side of his face. Daryl focuses on that instead.

The arrow strikes the very center of the fire alarm and a high pitched wail suddenly fills the store. The Walkers are momentarily confused, looking up at the ceiling for the source of the noise and making guttural cries of disdain. It's all the distraction Daryl needs. He keeps one arm looped tightly around Glenn's chest and pushes back out of the crawl space, standing instantly and jerking Glenn up beside him. The younger man nearly topples over from the sudden shift in gravity but he doesn't have time to process it before Daryl is literally dragging him across the floor and throwing them both into the broom closet. He slams the door behind them and locks it, knocking over the metal supply cabinet in the corner in front of the door as well just for good measure. He can hear the Walkers banging their rotting fists against the door but unless they figure out how to get through both the door and the metal cabinet, they're safe for now.

Daryl drops to his knees beside Glenn, scooping the kid off the ground and propping him against the wall. Glenn is squinting at him in the dim light of the closet, one side of his face dark and shiny from the blood streaking down it. He sways a bit even though he's sitting down and it looks like a feather could topple the kid faster than a stack of cards. "Hey kid, you with me?" Daryl asks, not liking the blank stare Glenn is giving the wall behind him. If he can hear the Walkers on the other side of the door he doesn't show it.

"Wha' happ'n'd?" Glenn mumbles and the words sound thick and heavy coming from his mouth. It's hard to talk, even harder to think, and the throbbing in his skull is doing nothing to alleviate that sensation.

"You took a pretty good knock to the head," Daryl explains, probing the area gently as he inspected the damage. Unfortunately even gentle hurt and Glenn winces painfully under his fingers. "Sorry," he mumbles and if the situation weren't so serious he'd gladly point out that he doesn't apologize to anyone for any reason. Except Glenn, Glenn is always the exception.

The wound is bleeding heavily, thick and dark, and it's slicking its way down the side of Glenn's face and coloring his shirt a garish maroon color at the collar. Daryl figures he should do something about the bleeding but the broom closet doesn't exactly offer up its services other than shelter at this point in time. He turns his attention to the backpack still looped over Glenn's shoulder and pulls it away, opening it and sifting through the contents. He finds a few razors, some bottled water, a couple cans of fruit, and a small green bag filled with feminine napkins. The idea is laughable in and of itself but Daryl figures beggars can't be choosers so he tears open the bag and pulls out one of the pads.

Glenn seems to realize what he's doing about half a second before he does it and weakly shakes his head. "Ah dude…come on…" He mumbles and Daryl politely ignores him as he wraps the padded side of the napkin across Glenn's forehead and gently pushes his cap down over the top of it to keep it place.

"Sorry kid, desperate times call for desperate measures," he mutters and honestly he's not sorry at this point. The makeshift bandage looks ridiculous and he plans on giving Glenn massive amounts of shit once the kid looks like he's not about to happily slip into a coma.

Glenn's head tips forward, the bill of his hat bumping against Daryl's shoulder, and the older man reaches out to tap his cheek. "Hey…uh-uh…no sleepin', alright? Gotta make sure you don't have brain damage before you can sleep." Glenn makes some kind of noncommittal noise in the back of his throat but sits up a bit, resting his back against the wall. Daryl shifts to his side and sits close enough so that their shoulders are touching; if anything Glenn can lean against him if he needs to.

Its silent for a second and Daryl is just about shake Glenn again to make sure he's awake when the kid says something next to him. It's mumbled and barely comprehensible and Daryl frowns. "What?"

"I said…do you think we're gett'n out of here…?" Glenn asks and there's a bit of uncertainty in his voice like part of him wants Daryl to lie to him but the other part wants the truth. Daryl can't bring himself to face the likelihood that they are trapped and won't be able to get out so he just nods quietly.

"Yeah, we're gettin' outta here," he says simply, carefully leaving out the part that he has no idea how they're going to get out of the closet.

**Present…**

Daryl's been staring at that window for the past twenty minutes, calculating every angle and measurement they'll need in order to make it through not only the window but also the back alley (which could very likely be filled with Walkers like the rest of the store) and back to the truck. He figures they stand a better chance of making a run for it (i.e. Him running with Glenn probably slung over his shoulder like a sack of sand) than they do waiting to die in this closet. Speaking of Glenn…

He jostles the younger man gently, receiving a groan for his efforts. He should be relieved by this but he's not because its becoming increasingly harder to not only keep Glenn conscious but also to wake him up with each passing minute. They need to get out of here and soon or he's going to have to face some very unthinkable possibilities. "Hey kid…where were you born?" He asks, hoping that by keeping the kid talking it might help him stay conscious for a bit longer.

"Wha-?"

"I said where were you born. And if you say a hospital I'm gonna throw you outside to the Walkers."

Glenn tries to laugh but it looks like a wince. "Uh…Korea…the good one."

"No shit, seriously?"

Glenn nods as much as he can stand, which looks like little more than a slight tilt of his head. "Yep…got the "made in Korea" stamp branded on my ass and everything."

Daryl smirks, glad the kid has at least somewhat of a sense of humor in their situation. He looks over at the toppled supply cabinet and wonders if it will give him enough of a lift to reach the window. Maybe he turns it sideways… "So how'd you get over here? I mean here in the states?"

Glenn doesn't answer and Daryl nudges him with his elbow gently. The younger man grunts in protest from being constantly shaken awake and glares at him. Well, glares as much as he can with dried blood on his face and Playtex pad plastered to his forehead.

"I said how'd you get here."

"A plane," Glenn almost snaps but it comes out as more of a sigh than anything.

Damn, Short Round got bitchy when he didn't feel well. Daryl knows a lot of it has to do with the concussion so he doesn't hold it too much against him but he still rolls his eyes at the response. "Smart ass."

"Hm."

"Seriously."

"I was adopted…my parents got me when I was six months old and brought me to America…"

Satisfied with the answer, Daryl takes that moment to stand and walk over to the metal cabinet, eying it carefully. It won't turn completely sideways but it will turn diagonally to the other wall while still keeping the door blocked. He drops down and scoots it to the side, straining against the heavy metal and wincing at the terrible scraping sound it makes as it shudders across the concrete floor. He can hear the Walkers outside, still shambling around through the store, but he focuses on the task at hand.

"Favorite color?" He asks, straining against the metal as he pushes it against the opposite wall. When Glenn doesn't answer, he sighs in exasperation. He knows he shouldn't get angry with him but anger was a natural substitution for fear at this point and the more concerned he became, the more irritated he sounded. "Glenn!" He snaps loudly and the younger man startles just a bit. "Favorite color, Jesus."

"Jesus isn't a color…" Glenn mumbles and it sounds like the most logical conviction he's ever heard.

Daryl sighs again. "I swear to God…"

Glenn shrugs one shoulder in response and squints across the room at Daryl. "I don't have a favorite color…I don't think I do at least…do I…?" He sounds confused and disoriented, his words coming out as more of question than a statement of fact. He frowns and tries to shake his head but all he gets is one slight turn to the side before the dizziness stops him instantly.

"Hey…don't do that," Daryl says, stopping what he's doing for a minute to cross the room and drop down into a crouch in front of Glenn. "You're gonna make it worse."

"Everything hurts…" Glenn mumbles and damn if it didn't make Daryl's heart clench just a little bit to hear him sound so defeated.

"I know it does kid." He reaches out and smoothes his thumb over Glenn's cheekbone, brushing away some of the dried blood clinging to his face. Glenn leans into the touch and for a second all Daryl really wants to do is just gather the kid in his arms and hold him like this all a bad dream. He can't though because this isn't a bad dream, this is reality, and the door is shuddering behind him as the Walkers continue to beat against the splintering wood. He lets his hand linger against Glenn's face for a second longer before he stands and walks back over to the metal cabinet. "Just hang tight, kid. We'll be outta here in no time."

Glenn is silent for a second and Daryl nearly goes back over to him before he finally speaks. "Is kelp a color?"

Kelp? The fuck? That weird seaweed shit that grew in lakes and oceans and always got washed up on the beach? Yeah sure, why not. "Yep."

"Okay…kelp is my favorite color."

That works. Daryl smirks just a bit and manages to get the cabinet pushed up against the other wall enough to where he can stand on it. He steps up onto the side and reaches the window, pushing it open and peering out into the back alley. For the moment its miraculously clear but now he has another problem: only one person can fit through the window at a time and he knows Glenn can't crawl out by himself without help in the state he's in now. That leaves him with only one option: push Glenn through first and hope like hell that no Walkers come until he's managed to get out as well. It's a shitty plan and he doesn't like it for a second but it's the only thing they have to work with at the moment.

He looks down at the ground below the window and figures it's a good five foot drop between the window and the street. There's a pile of cardboard boxes directly beneath the window that had been stacked next to the dumpster and Daryl figures that's the best place to drop Glenn. He looks out at the street again, seeing nothing, and turns his attention back to the younger man. "Okay kid, time to go."

Glenn's eyes are closed and he whimpers when Daryl grabs one of his arms and pulls him up from the floor. He sways violently and nearly falls back to the floor but Daryl locks an arm around his chest and physically keeps him upright. He hoists Glenn up onto the cabinet with him and keeps a tight hold around the younger man just as the cabinet shudders beneath their feet from the Walkers still banging against the door. Using every ounce of strength he has, Daryl managed to lift Glenn up high enough to where the kid is balanced on the ledge of the window, all he has to do is slip outside. Glenn sways dangerously again and Daryl can only hope he stays conscious long enough to make it outside because if he falls backwards right now they're both screwed.

"Glenn…hey kid, listen to me." Glenn looks at him, dark eyes hazy with pain and confusion, and frowns. "This is our exit plan, alright? Aim for the boxes and I'll be right behind you."

Glenn tries to shake his head and to Daryl's great astonishment there are tears in his eyes. "No…no, what if they get in…they'll get you too…Daryl, no-"

"Hey, hey…shh…ain't no Walkers gettin' me today, got it? Someone's gotta haul your concussed ass back to camp, right?" Glenn shakes his head again and tilts awkwardly against the ledge, nearly toppling over had it not been for Daryl standing there. He tries to protest again but Daryl leans up, pressing his mouth to the younger man's to cut off whatever he was about to say. He can taste Glenn's blood on his lips and it solidifies his resolve. Before Glenn can say anything else, Daryl pushes him through the window and hears a muffled thump as he lands in the boxes below.

The door cracks behind him and the cabinet under his feet shudders more violently against the force of the Walkers. Daryl steps off the cabinet for a second to grab his crossbow and the door cracks again, filtering in the sounds of the Walkers outside. He hops back up onto the cabinet and lifts himself up onto the window ledge just as the cabinet begins to shift away from the wall. The door cracks again and this time comes off its hinges allowing the first of the Walkers to stagger into the room. Daryl catches sight of the first one for just a second before he drops out of the window and lands in an undignified pile in the boxes below.

Glenn is right beside him, covered in blood and cardboard, and God, he looks even worse in the daylight. Blood is streaked down his face, bright in some places and dried in others, and its staining his shirt and hat viciously. Daryl always knew that head injuries bled like a bitch but damn, this is a little much. He doesn't waste any time thinking about it though as he hears a trash can get knocked over further down the alley and figures they need to get back to the truck and head out as soon as possible. He grabs Glenn and tosses the kid over his shoulder like a sack of flour before jumping to his feet and making a run for the truck.

There's two Walkers already stumbling around the front of the truck and it won't be long before the ones in the store realize their prey is now outside. Daryl dispatches the two Walkers easily, a pretty impressive feat considering he's shooting one handed while keeping Glenn on his shoulder with the other, and jerks open the door of the truck. He drops Glenn inside as gently as he can and climbs in beside him, slamming the door and locking them in just as another Walker makes a grab for the handle. He digs the keys out of his pocket and jams them in the ignition, cranking the engine as the horde begins to surround the truck. The engine sputters once, twice, three times before finally gunning to life. Ignoring the Walkers standing in front of the truck, Daryl lays his foot down on the accelerator and drives forward.

There's a terrible crack and crunch of bodies being flattened beneath the tires but he doesn't care. Thick, black blood flings up onto the windows as the Walkers are trampled beneath the truck and Daryl drives out of the town, glancing in the rearview mirror at the horde still surrounding the store.

**OOOOO**

It takes a good ten minutes before the adrenaline begins to wear off and Daryl is able to relinquish the death grip he has on the steering wheel. His fingers are locked so tightly around it that his knuckles are bloodless and the joints actually pop when he removes his fingers. The driver's side window is cracked in the corner and the glass is streaked with dark, sludge-like blood. It smells rancid, rotting flesh mixed with stagnant blood, but then again that seems to be the norm in the world now. That smell can't really be escaped no matter where you go.

Daryl glances to the passenger seat and frowns at Glenn's slumped position. The kid's head is lolled back against the seat, hands crumpled in his lap haphazardly like he just left them where they fell. His eyes are closed and his skin looks pale beneath all the blood and grime. Daryl focuses his attention on a smudge of dirt on the kid's shirt and watches carefully for a few seconds to makes sure he's still breathing. He sees the smudge raise fractionally as Glenn inhales and sees it fall when he lets the breath out. Its satisfying enough to know the kid is still alive but Daryl isn't exactly relieved.

"Hey," he mumbles, reaching over and laying his hand on Glenn's shoulder. For a moment the kid doesn't move, doesn't even acknowledge that Daryl is touching him or talking to him. Daryl shakes his shoulder, his concern causing the movement to be a little harder and more forceful than he meant it to. The outcome is Glenn swaying to the side and smacking his head against the window. He winces, doesn't quite open his eyes, and makes a semi-groaning sound in the back of his throat.

"Hey kid…you with me?" Daryl asks, hoping to hide the concern in his voice with characteristic gruffness. Its taking longer for Glenn to regain consciousness now and that worries him more than it should.

Glenn frowns and opens his eyes to the floor of the truck, his head tipping forward boneless like all the muscles in his neck had been severed. "Where…?" He starts to ask but nothing more than that single word comes out in the form of a question.

"The truck. We got outta the store and got the hell outta dodge," Daryl says by way of explanation, glancing up at the road to make sure he wasn't about to barrel into a ditch. The one good thing about the zombie apocalypse was that you never had to worry about stupid drivers again. He turns back to Glenn and curses viciously when he sees the kid's eyes are closed again. "Glenn. Hey kid, wake up." When that doesn't get the desired effect, little more than a moan to be honest, Daryl reaches across the seat and pinches the side of Glenn's arm hard enough to bruise. The kid jerks a bit and manages the most spectacular pout Daryl has ever seen. "You gotta stay awake, alright? Keep your eyes open."

"Why?" Glenn asks and he probably doesn't mean to sound whiny and petulant like a child not getting his way.

"Because I gotta make sure you don't have fuckin' brain damage, Glenda," he retorted, knowing the use of the long forgotten nickname would get under Glenn's skin. Merle had brought up the fact that Glenn was pretty enough to be considered one of the girls in the camp a few weeks after they found the other survivors. When he actually did bother to find out Glenn's name instead of just calling him "chink" or "Chinaman" all the time, the revelation that he could add an "a" to the end of his name added a new level of mockery to Glenn's already long-suffering ridicule. Daryl only ever used the nickname to get a rise out of him because he knew it pissed him off and honestly, it was kind of funny to see Glenn get all hot and bothered about his more feminine looks, especially when Daryl was the one pointing them out.

The name has the desired effect, sort of at least, and Glenn opens his eyes enough to glare at Daryl. "Ass."

"Yeah, you just keep those pet names to yourself 'til we get back to camp, alright?" Daryl shoots back, casting another glance to the road. He needs to keep Glenn talking, keep him conscious until they get back and he can be checked out by someone more qualified with medical knowledge than he is. He figures Rick or Shane probably knows at least a little bit of First Aid being cops and all. He's not too keen on them manhandling Glenn but he doesn't really have a choice at the moment.

"What were you goin' to college for?" Daryl asks finally, landing on one subject that he knows has more than a yes or no answer.

"Huh?" Glenn's words are slurred and he squints at Daryl like the other man suddenly grew tentacles.

"College. You were in college, right? What were you studyin'?"

Glenn is still frowning at him, his expression a mixture of confusion, pain, and near unconsciousness. "Coll'ge…?"

"Yeah, big school. Expensive as hell. Place where all you geeky little Asian kids go to become brain surgeons and shit."

It takes Glenn a second to wade through the muddied thoughts in his brain and come up with a significant answer. "Uh…genetics…" He mutters finally and it seems to take a lot of effort to form those two words.

"Genetics? Like X-men and shit?"

"Mm…" Glenn mumbles in the back of his throat, eyes closing again.

"Hey, uh-uh…eyes open, kid." Daryl reaches across the seat and shakes him again and he's pretty sure if Glenn had the coordination and the strength he'd punch him for waking him up. "Come on, talk to me. Tell me how to make egg rolls or Chinese food or some shit like that."

"I'm Korean dammit…"

"All the same in this part of the world kid," Daryl retorts, turning onto the gravel road leading to the camp and lashing his arm out to pin Glenn against the seat and keep him from tumbling out of the seat and onto the floorboards at the change in direction. "Seriously, Jackie Chan, Bruce Lee, might as well all be the same person to me. I can't tell 'em apart."

"Racist…"

"Not racist, it's a fact. You all look alike after a while," Daryl counters, pulling the truck to a stop at the edge of camp, killing the engine and stepping out. He walks around to the passenger side and scoops Glenn off the seat, propping him against the door of the truck while he grabs the half-full backpack and his crossbow from the floorboards. Glenn is no sooner upright then he's doubled over at the waist, tumbling to his knees and vomiting all over the ground. He manages to miss Daryl's shoes by a half inch but it was probably more luck than planning.

"Shit…" Daryl mutters, hearing the kid gag and retch painfully. He drops to his knees beside him, carefully avoiding the mess on the ground, and rubs his back, squeezing the back of his neck gently as the kid gags again. "The shelf really knocked your shit loose, huh?"

"Ugh…please kill me…" Glenn moans pitifully, his face now ashen beneath the dried blood.

"No can do, kid. Gotta save ammo where we can, right?"

"Sadist…"

"I know." Daryl leaves the backpack and crossbow on the hood of the truck and carefully scoops Glenn off the ground, looping Glenn's arm around his neck and wrapping his other arm around his waist to keep him from falling again. He's more holding Glenn up right now than helping him stand and he knows its not going to get any better any time soon. Keeping a tight grip on the kid in his arms, he half-drags, mostly carries Glenn toward the camp.

Andrea is the first one to see them approaching and her eyes widen in surprise at the sight of Daryl dragging Glenn by his side. She shouts for the others and almost instantly everyone in camp is running toward them, asking questions and demanding answers all at the same time. Surprisingly, Dale is the first one to reach Daryl's side and he carefully loops Glenn's other arm around his neck, shouldering the other half of the kid's weight. Carol and Andrea meet them a few seconds later, Lori right behind them, and they're all fussing over Glenn with motherly concern and gentle hands. Glenn is completely unconscious now or if he is conscious at all he doesn't make any indication that he notices the others around them.

Rick and Shane are the last to approach and it pisses Daryl off no end to see their eyes narrow at the sight of all the blood. "He wasn't bit, he got a head injury," he snaps and some of the wariness seems to dissipate from their faces. T-Dog is clearing a space in the center of camp and between Daryl and Dale they drag Glenn over to the space and gently lay him down on the ground.

"Jesus man, what the hell happened to him?" T-Dog asks and it's the question that's been ringing out through camp since they got back.

"A Walker knocked over a shelf in the store and it fell on top of him," Daryl answers, nodding to Glenn as indication. Rick drops down to one knee beside Glenn, thumbing his eye open with one hand and checking his pulse with the other. "Looks like he took a pretty good blow to the head…" He mumbles and it seems like he's talking to himself more than anyone else. He carefully peels the hat back, frowning at the makeshift bandage as it sticks to the inside of the hat.

"Dude, is that a Maxi pad?" T-Dog asks and Daryl scowls at him.

"Had to do something' to stop the bleedin'." He retorts defensively and T-Dog manages to hide his smirk by biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Good thing those were on the list," Andrea cracks and T-Dog can't hide the snort that escapes his mouth. Daryl just rolls his eyes and ignores them.

"Doesn't look like it needs stitches," Shane comments, prodding the injury carefully and gauging the depth. Glenn winces a bit beneath his hands but doesn't open his eyes. "He's gonna have a bitch of a headache when he wakes up though."

Dale abandons the group hovering around Glenn and disappears into the trailer, rummaging around through their supplies to find the various medical supplies they'd collected over the past few months. He returns a few minutes later with some bandages and a few packaged moist towelettes. Lori and Carol take the supplies from him and Andrea takes one of the towelettes, opening it and using it to gently scrub away the dried blood from Glenn's face.

Carl and Sophia appear on the edges of the group, watching the process with wide eyes. "Is he okay?" Sophia asks, her eyes never leaving Glenn's face.

"He will be, honey," Carol soothes her daughter with a smile and goes about covering the gash with a strip of gauze. Lori joins Andrea in the blood cleaning process and after a few minutes the majority of the blood is washed away completely leaving Glenn pale and still unconscious on the ground.

Daryl is watching carefully, ready to step in at a moment's notice. Protective as he's become of Glenn, he knows the others are just trying to help so he refrains from lashing out at them every time the kid winces. Still, Glenn isn't conscious and its beginning to bother him. "Why ain't he wakin' up? He was conscious before we got back here."

Rick shrugs one shoulder and sits back on his heels. "Head injuries are kinda tricky…you can be fine one minute and out like a light the next. Shane got smacked upside the head one night on patrol and was in and out of consciousness for two hours before it was all said and done."

Shane rolls his eyes at the comment. "That was a lucky hit," he grumbles and Rick just smirks.

The former sheriff looks back up at Daryl. "He'll be alright, his vitals are steady and the injury doesn't look that bad now that its clean. He just needs some rest and he'll be back on his feet in no time."

Daryl looks back at Glenn and has to admit the kid looks a lot better with all the blood gone. He's still pale but he doesn't look nearly as ghastly as he had when they first arrived back at camp.

"We can move him to the RV," Dale offers, nodding back toward the trailer. "Its better than keeping him on the ground."

"I'll watch 'im," Daryl speaks up and suddenly every eye in the group is looking at him. He feels himself flush slightly under the scrutiny and scowls. "What? My tent's the biggest and it ain't like he's gonna be able to move around on his own when he wakes up." The logic is flimsy at best but no one says anything about it and simply agrees to move Glenn to Daryl's tent.

Rick and Shane carefully scoop Glenn off the ground and carry him to Daryl's tent, neither saying a word about the sudden protective streak the redneck happened to be showing. Daryl is right beside them, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead as he walks. Carl and Sophia have already reached the tent, sneaking off just before the others to straighten out the sleeping bags inside the tent and feel like they're helping in some way. Normally Daryl would be pissed that they had gone inside without asking but he finds he doesn't really have the energy to deal with it right now.

Carl is smoothing out one of the sleeping bags and Sophia is dragging a pillow from the side of the tent over to the center. If either of them notice the pile of Glenn's clothes in the far corner of the tent they don't say anything. Daryl smirks a bit and ruffles their hair as they pass, a gesture of thanks he doesn't put into words. They exit the tent and rush back to their parents, making room for Shane and Rick to carefully deposit Glenn onto the flattened sleeping bag. Shane nods on his way out and leaves without a word, content to leave Daryl to his watch. Rick pauses just by the door of the tent, glancing back at Glenn. "Let me know if anything changes, alright?"

Daryl just nods mutely and turns his full attention back to Glenn. Rick leaves the tent and zips the door closed behind him, leaving the two of them alone. Once he's certain no one is listening, Daryl lets out a long, tired sigh and drops his head into his hands. "Jesus kid…you really know how to get under my skin, you know that?" Predictably Glenn doesn't answer, his face remains impassive, eyes closed lightly. Daryl sighs again and reaches out, running his fingers through the younger man's short, dark hair. He needs to touch him, just for that moment, to reassure himself that he's still there.

Daryl is suddenly exhausted, bone-weary and worn like a thin piece of cloth, and the adrenaline dump makes him feel like he's ready to fall over where he sits. He doesn't though, he forces himself to stay awake and keep an eye on Glenn. Its going to be a long night…

**OOOOO**

"Daryl?" The voice outside the tent jostles him awake and he frowns, not realizing he'd fallen asleep. He looks back at Glenn, squinting a bit in the dim light. Night is beginning to fall outside and the inside of the tent is dark and shadowed. It takes him a minute to focus on Glenn and he listens carefully to hear the kid breathing. Glenn's chest is rising and falling in a slow, steady manner that's more reassuring than anything else he's seen all day and it causes a little knot of tension to release itself from Daryl's stomach.

"Daryl?" The voice asks again and Daryl turns his attention back to the front of the tent. He gets to his feet and walks over to the door, unzipping the flap of the tent and looking outside. Dale is standing just outside, a bottle of water and a bottle of pills in his hand. "I found some Tylenol inside the RV, I figured Glenn could use it when he wakes up." Daryl nods and takes the pills and water bottle offered to him. Dale looks over his shoulder into the tent, his eyes landing on Glenn's still form. "How's he doing?"

Daryl looks back over his shoulder as well and shrugs a bit. "Alright, I guess. He's still asleep."

Dale nods and hesitates like he wants to say something else. Finally, he reaches out and pats Daryl on the shoulder gently. "You did good today, son. I don't know if anyone else could've handled the situation better than you did."

Daryl is suddenly awkwardly uncomfortable under the older man's praise and shifts his weight a bit from one foot to the other. "Well it wasn't like I was gonna let those damn Walkers get 'im," he mumbles back, looking away into the darkness of the tent.

Dale just smiles and nods. "I know." He steps away from the tent and makes his way back to the center of the camp, knowing full well that Daryl is getting increasingly fidgety. "Get some rest," he calls over his shoulder before he disappears around a tree and is gone completely.

Daryl steps back into the tent and flicks on the lantern in the corner. The light is just enough to illuminate the inside of the tent without being too bright and he can see Glenn a bit better now. He finds a clean-ish shirt from Glenn's pile of clothes in the corner and carefully strips the kid of blood stained clothes. He just manages to slip the new shirt over his head when Glenn winces and opens his eyes to slits in the dim light. "Dar'l…?"

"Hey kid," Daryl says, hoping the younger man is still too out of it to hear the relief in his voice.

"Where 're we…?" Glenn asks, his voice mumbled and thick like its being filtered through mud.

"We're back at camp. You've been out of it for a few hours."

"Hm…head hurts…"

"Figured it would," Daryl says, grabbing the water and Tylenol from where he left them and shaking a few of the pills out into the palm of his hand. He could hug Dale the next time he saw him for the foresight. He snakes one arm around Glenn's shoulders and lifts him up just a little bit, dropping the pills into his mouth and holding the water bottle up so he can drink from it. Glenn gags for a second and Daryl wonders briefly if he's going to throw up again but he manages to swallow thickly and keep the pills down. It seems to zap what little energy he has left though and Glenn is left heavy and boneless in his arms. He carefully lays him back down and sets the water bottle down next to him.

"Daryl…?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks…for savin' me today…" Glenn tries to smile but it looks more like a wince.

Daryl smiles for him and just nods. "Anytime, Short Round." He brushes his fingers through Glenn's hair once more and lets his hand linger against the kid's forehead. "Go back to sleep."

Glenn doesn't need much encouragement and his eyes begin to slip closed again before Daryl ever finishes his sentence. His fingers are weakly grasping the leg of Daryl's jeans like a lifeline and he manages to keep hold of them even after he nods back off into the land of sleep. Daryl slides down on the sleeping bag beside him, propping his head on one arm and wrapping the other across Glenn's chest and torso. He keeps a protectively hold on Glenn even as his own eyes begin to slip shut and body begins to get heavy and relaxed with oncoming sleep. He feels the younger man turn his head to the side, face buried in the side of his neck, and he smiles to himself one last time as sleep takes over and he knows no more.

* * *

**Hope you all liked it! :D**


End file.
